Faith
by INMH
Summary: "We put our faith in you." Rachel joins Castiel. Castiel/Rachel if you squint.


Faith

Rating: PG/K+

Genre: General/Friendship

Summary: "We put our faith in you." Rachel joins Castiel.  
>Author's Note: … This was <em>meant<em> to be Castiel/Rachel, and I guess you get a hint of it here, but not as much as I wanted. I guess you could call it pre-Castiel/Rachel.  
>Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. It belongs to Eric Kripke.<p>

()()()()()()()()

One day, not so long after Sam threw himself into the pit, after he struck his deal with Crowley, after Castiel returned to heaven and confronted Raphael, Rachel seeks out Castiel.

He's sitting at the same playground in the same town that Uriel almost destroyed not all that long ago. It's summer now, and the children are in abundance, mothers and fathers hovering at a distance to ensure their wellbeing.

He hears and feels Rachel approaching before he sees her, the sound of wings cutting the still, warm air and creating a slight wind. He looks around, curious as to which of his brothers or sisters has come for him- he sincerely hopes they're not looking for a fight, because he's loathe to engage in one with so many humans nearby.

His eyes lock on a blonde woman moving towards him. There's a certain awkwardness to her (barely noticeable to humans but plenty noticeable to him), the kind that comes from an angel that hasn't possessed a human body in a long, long time. It doesn't help that her vessel is wearing high-heeled boots. He has to study her for a moment before realizing that yes, it is Rachel, from his own garrison. She who has always radiated confidence, loyalty and bravery and continues to do so now. But now he senses something else in there as well.

It's fear. It hovers around her like a mist, permeating her very being. It's then that Castiel knows for certain that Rachel means him no harm. Fear from someone as confident and assured as she could only come from the knowledge that she is doing something particularly _wrong_, something that she would face terrible consequences for. She must not have gotten permission to leave heaven or take a vessel. And he knows she definitely does not have permission to be speaking to him.

When she reaches him, she nods. "Castiel." She sounds a little breathless.

He nods back. "Rachel." He then twitches his head to the empty seat beside him. Rachel stares at it for a moment, then slides down beside him.

For a moment, they are silent. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, though, and sees the pale blue eyes of her vessel darting around, taking in the sights. He knows for a fact that Rachel hasn't been to earth for roughly 2,785 years; even through the apocalypse she was kept in heaven along with several other members of their garrison. Castiel suspects that this was on purpose, to assure that he might not infect the rest of them with ideas of rebellion.

It would seem, though, that he succeeded in doing so anyway. Rachel certainly isn't here for her health.

"You struck out against Raphael." Barely noticeable to a human, Castiel can hear the slight note of awe in her voice. He nods.

"I did."

"And you survived."

"Yes."

There is more silence. Castiel is actually surprised that more angels haven't come to him trying to simply confirm the story. He's already been confronted by several angels, many of which have, in their own, reserved way, gushed about how glad they were he was alive and proclaiming that they were, most definitely, on _his_ side.

Rachel squirms ever so slightly. "Why?"

Castiel is silent for a moment while he contemplates his answer. He hears Dean's voice in his head a lot now, snapping back reactions that the real Dean would have likely had. Right now, his voice is saying "Why? _Why?_ What do you mean _why?_ He wants to jump-start the freakin' apocalypse again!"

But Rachel doesn't understand that. The apocalypse was supposed to happen, but it didn't. And she is subservient enough to a point where she doesn't have a real opinion about that: She's waiting for her superiors to tell her whether she should take action or not, care or not. And it seems that she's taken the initiative, at least, to choose which superior she'll listen to.

"Because he wanted to restart the apocalypse." Castiel shifts a little in the seat so that he's facing her better. "The battle between Michael and Lucifer will destroy at least half the planet, killing hundreds of thousands, maybe even billions of innocent people. If it can be avoided, and it can and has, it should."

Rachel takes a moment to contemplate that. Castiel knows her, has known her from their earliest days. She does not bear a grudge against humanity; rather, like him, she holds a sort of scientific curiosity. The idea of innocents being slaughtered in the name of what Castiel has heard called a 'Celebrity Death Match' between two brothers looking to resolve their own personal grudge would not appeal to her.

But Rachel still looks conflicted. "What… What is God's will? What does he want to happen?" When all else fails, base your decision on Father's will.

Castiel twitches with the sort of nervousness that comes when you're about to tell someone something they really, _really _aren't going to want to hear.

"I have heard," He began slowly, deliberately avoiding Rachel's eyes, "From Joshua," He swallowed. "That our Father was aware that the apocalypse had started… But did not believe that it was… Of concern… To him."

He suddenly becomes fascinated with arranging his hands in just the tight position on his legs.

All the same, on the periphery of his vision, he can see Rachel almost convulsing with confusion.

"But- What-" She can't even form the words properly. "I- I don't- How-" She grasps Castiel's arm and he, reflexively, turns to face her, wincing when he sees the bewilderment, turmoil and, quite frankly, _hurt_ in her expression. "This… This is our Father's world. His creation. As are we and humanity. _How_ could he not-?" She breaks off, shaking her head. Her hands are trembling.

He debates, silently, over whether or not he should leave it at that for now or continue. Rachel is upset. She needs time to think, to process, to accept what she's just learned. This goes against everything she'd previously believed: That their benevolent Father cared for everything that happened to them and to humanity. His _children_.

But Rachel _is_ upset. She might leave, fly away back to heaven. She might encounter Raphael or one of his followers. If they don't try to hurt her, they may try to turn her way of thinking. Call Castiel a rebellious, traitorous liar. Telling her everything up front might be for the best.

"Rachel," Castiel said softly, covering one of her shaking hands with his own. "Our Father has been away for a long time now. I don't know for how long, but for a while now, it is not His will we have been obeying: It is Michael and Raphael's and their agents, such as Zachariah. The apocalypse came about through their works, and of their own deciding. Not by the will of God."

Rachel still looks hurt, but now anger colors her expression as well. "How could they?" She asks angrily. "How could they be so disobedient? How could our Father allow such willful arrogance and hypocrisy from his sons, especially the archangels?" The archangels were supposed to be the pillars of virtue, the example of perfection for the others to follow. Their pride and their disobedience was an entirely new level of shocking.

"He doesn't, evidently, think that it's his problem anymore." Now Rachel looks really hurt.

"He's abandoned us."

"No," Castiel cuts in quickly. She's going through a much faster version of what he went through a few months before. "I don't believe He's abandoned us. I still have faith in Him. I just believe that… Conflict amongst the archangels and the pressures from both us and humanity have left Him… Tired. In need of a break."

Rachel's eyes pop a little. "He's on sabbatical?"

It sounds absolutely absurd when she puts it that way, but still oddly accurate.

"More or less."

Rachel's hands are clenched tightly, and he can feel the muscles straining under his own hand. Castiel watches them and half expects to see tiny rivulets of blood from where her vessel's nails dig into the skin. "But what do we do? How are we supposed to…?" She shakes her head like she isn't quite sure how to finish that sentence, but Castiel can.

_How are we supposed to **function?**_

Castiel stares at her with some sadness, remembering all too well the days when he had doubted and been angry and been hurt at their Father's absence. And he had been largely left alone to deal with his doubts.

Dean and Sam were good friends, but they weren't angels, and they had never been without free will. They hadn't lived their entire lives, which had spanned over thousands upon thousands of years, following every order they received without question and believing that it was their Father's perfect will guiding them. They didn't know what it was like to have such flawless and absolute stability only to have it torn out from underneath them.

He won't let Rachel experience the brunt of that. Not a chance.

Castiel moves a little closer to her and tightens his grip on her hand.

"For now," He says, "I think we should focus on Raphael and his followers. They will strike back, and soon. When he has been defeated, we can work on either finding God or learning to function entirely on our own."

"You're leading us, then?" Castiel swallows.

"If you choose to put your faith in me, then yes."

Rachel smiles.

"Of course you have my faith, Cas."

-End


End file.
